Something New
by Lily Lovett
Summary: After prom does not go as planned. Life rarely does. Helga/Phoebe
1. What You Know

Something New

**Author:** Lilylovett

**Disclaimer:** "Hey Arnold!" the TV series © Nickeloden and its related entities. Song lyrics are from "What You Know" by Two Door Cinema Club. All rights reserved. There is no profit, aside from personal satisfaction here.

**Rating:** PG-13 for language.

**Summary: **After prom does not go as planned. Life rarely does. Helga/Phoebe

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><p><strong><em>1. What You Know<em>**

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><p><em>And I can't say it's what you know,<em>  
><em>But you've known it the whole time.<em>  
><em>Yeah, y<em>_ou've known it the whole time._

* * *

><p>Junior after prom generally meant partying. And partying, usually meant loud music, teenage hormones, and alcohol. In both girls' opinions, it was an awful idea. Despite that their dates were possibly the most considerate boys they ever knew—hell, they had gone to preschool with them—Helga and Phoebe still chose to spend the night in the Pataki basement, safely consuming junk food and watching television.<p>

Phoebe suspected it was Miriam Pataki's addiction that had effectively prevented Helga's rebellious behavior from extending to illicit substance abuse. In turn, despite that Phoebe wanted to indulge in all of the typical teenage experiences, she understood was an absolute control freak. This facet of her personality had not changed since her meticulously organized locker in PS118, and she sure wasn't going to sacrifice her carefully constructed methods of self-control over a bit of _alcohol_.

So they had agreed: following a delicious prom night with their favored dates, they would go with said dates to get ice-cream, and then head home. It was rather middle school, Phoebe conceded, but she figured that it would be enough. Helga was taking her beloved Arnold, and she was to be with Gerald. There was nothing that could make the night any less than perfect.

What Phoebe had not anticipated, however, was that Helga would choose tonight of all nights to share just how observant she was.

No longer were they innocent children pining after one another, asking who "like _liked_" who. Now, Helga had rid herself of the characteristic Pataki unibrow. Now, Phoebe had traded her fifties-reminiscent frames in for a set of contacts. They had really grown up.

And the obvious blossoming of physical bodies was a fact that Phoebe had willfully ignored. Every moment in the locker room with Helga rambling about the idiocy of high school literature selection, Phoebe concentrated on the way Helga crinkled her brow at every intonation, and not at the blonde tresses which fell just over round, breasts covered in what was usually a pink bra. Every sleepover in which a bed was shared, Phoebe concentrated on her own breathing, and not on the floral scent of her best friend sleeping beside her.

High school is a masquerade and a show to impress. College is presented to hungry teens as the light to the end of a dark tunnel—the place in which youth can finally express themselves in every manner they choose. Phoebe looked forward to college. She _relied_ on it. Phoebe understood her bisexuality for what it was, and she especially recognized her unrequited love for what it was. She assumed that college would be the proper time to address issues of repression, or, in the case of the later, such issues would simply dissipate.

So, Helga pressing herself against Phoebe was equally as ironic as the fact that Phoebe had harbored an unrequited love for Helga.

**X X X X**

The moment seemed to last for a life time. Helga and Phoebe were alone in the Pataki house, as planned. Helga's parents were out, not worried that they had left an open house on prom weekend. They were stripping out of their dresses to hang in Helga's closet, before descending to the basement.

It was in that moment in which Helga chose to speak the words that Phoebe knew immediately at their utterance, would in some way, change their relationship forever.

"So, Pheebs. When were you gonna tell me you're in love with me?"

It was said so nonchalantly, so casually, that Phoebe almost wondered if she was dreaming. Or perhaps in some sort of trance, onset by...what? Helga continued putting away her dress, comfortable in her own state of half-dress.

"Uhm," Phoebe began, and she almost hit her forehead for the lack of eloquence. Then she noticed Helga was wearing black panties and a matching black bra, and she almost, _almost_ let her breath hitch. It was a decidedly bad time to be horny.

"I can wait," Helga said in a quiet, subdued voice. She was being gentle, and Phoebe felt her heart flutter. She let that surge of adrenaline propel her into being semi-honest, to developing an improvised, but wonderfully executed explanation of half-truths. She could save herself; her efforts to repress her crush would not be in total vain!

"Yes, I have harbored _feelings_ for you, Helga, for a long time. Since we were young, you have incessantly and inadvertently bullied and coerced me into acting as your virtual slave." Phoebe was near turning red, and the room was hot. She wasn't sure if it was at the surprise of the venom in her own voice, or at the fact that Helga was _still_ standing their in her glorious, matching black underwear set.

"We have never had a balanced, nor healthy relationship. And it seems, I am suffering some form of Stockholm syndrome, because, yes, I may have developed some romantic inclinations toward you." She winced at the use of the psychoanalytical term. It seemed cruel, to describe their relationship in this way.

"But now, you have the _audacity_ to mention my own feelings, without my own confirmation of such, in a manner so utterly casual, you may as well have been inquiring about the weather!" Phoebe was breathing hard now, the weight of she had said was all wrong. The entire conversation was wrong, and she wanted to back track so terribly, but there it was. She could have Helga believe that it was all a weird crush, one that _angered_ Phoebe, rather than _turned her on_. It would be for the better.

And it took all in the girl for her not to break down and cry. She knew even after all that she had said, Helga would still wipe away her tears and console her. Because as tough as a persona Helga ever tried to portray, she had more empathy than Phoebe could ever hope to understand. And it was one of those qualities about Helga that she loved.

And then, Helga was pressing her body to Phoebe, pinning her to the wall. Helga's room felt small, and the space between them was lessening.

"Okay, Phoebe," It was intoxicating being this close. "You don't fool me. I took that psychology class with you, if you do remember. Your pupils are fucking black." With that explicative, Phoebe lost control and let herself be kissed when Helga closed the gap between them. No, she did much worse than simply allow it to happen; she kissed back.

Phoebe's slinky dress was half zipped in the back, and Helga's hair was down and in a wild sort of mess from having been removed from its up-do. Phoebe had never felt so turned on, so absolutely sexy, but she also felt elation. The kiss was searing, and more passionate than she had ever hoped to imagine.

When they broke apart, however, reality set in.

"Helga, what are you doing?" Phoebe yelled as much as she could; her voice was husky. It was hard to not ignore the pretenses of what they were doing, and simply ravish Helga until neither of them could stand.

"Kissing you. Thought that was pretty obvious, Pheebs." And Helga's posture was as nonchalant as forever, but there was an acute, predatory glint in her eyes. Her smirk was also not to be trusted.

"What about Arnold? Your _boyfriend_? You have been in love with him since preschool! You have been dating him since you finally admitting your feelings in middle school—where he allowed you to realize it was not a love unrequited! Not to mention, just because I have found myself with a _crush_ on you, doesn't mean you should take advantage of it! Plus, you're straight." Phoebe desperately listed as many points as she could. It was a familiar pep talk that she had used over the years to assure herself that acting on the crush would only proceed to ruin their friendship.

"I broke up with him. Trying something new," Helga shrugged and kissed her again.


	2. Cough Syrup

_**2. Cough Syrup**_

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><p><em>Life's too short to even care at all.<em>  
><em>I'm losing my mind losing,<em>  
><em>My mind losing control.<em>

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><p>"You're coming over the minute you're sure your parents are asleep."<p>

"Helga, I'm...not so sure that's a good idea." And the hesitancy in her voice was reminiscent of previous years. Back then she was admittedly _scared_ of defying Helga's word, and though the feeling was no longer a common occurrence, experiencing it now was so familiar.

"C'mon, Pheebs. You know I hate talking about the mushy-lovey-dovey stuff, well, unless I'm alone in a corner alley, ranting with Brainy nearby..." Here she laughed at the running gag of her elementary school follies. Phoebe almost let herself smile. "But we should probably talk about what happened."

"Can't we do that over the phone?" Phoebe could feel her voice and resolve weakening. Helga would have her way, as per usual. And it honestly didn't bother her; Phoebe actually agreed that speaking in person would be the best way to clear the air. But Phoebe was nervous and horny and afraid that she would do something entirely _stupid_ if she let herself in that situation again. Namely, being utterly alone with Helga.

"I will sneak through your windows if you don't wanna come over." Phoebe could almost see Helga shrugging through her phone. "We'll have to be _quiet_ though, Pheebs. That would prohibit us from being _vocal_."

Phoebe almost choked on the water she was anxiously sipping. The innuendo, intended or not, was there. She stood up and promptly flipped the switch for her ceiling fan to turn on to the highest setting.

"Helga, we are going to get coffee tomorrow. Ten AM sharp, at the usual place we go to. We can talk about it then, okay? I just need some time to process." There, they could both have some time to actually process all of this. Phoebe squeezed her eyes shut, in mental protest of whatever convincing argument Helga would use to change their meeting time.

"Okay. Sweet dreams, I'll talk to you tomorrow." A click.

And Phoebe felt utterly relieved, and then a little shocked that Helga had let her own resolve fade so quickly. Had this been Helga's plan all along? To ensure that Phoebe would not avoid her at all costs for the rest of the weekend, but rather create a window of opportunity for them to discuss the tension that now existed between them? Could Helga have really though that far in the heat of the moment?

Following their heated kiss, Phoebe's phone had buzzed and it seemed her parents suddenly wanted her home after it was reported a house party got busted for underage drinking. Rather then informing her parents that it would make more sense for Phoebe to reside in the safety of Helga's house, she willingly walked the nine blocks home. It was a strangely perfect out, and Phoebe began to wonder if her parents' sudden excellent timing was a miracle of God, or if perhaps, her mother had a sixth sense.

Phoebe had more than enough to ponder for the night.

**X X X X**

"Phoebe! My favorite customer," The suave Italian man exclaimed. "The usual soy latte?"

"Hello, Frankie, hope you're having a wonderful morning! And an iced coffee with three creams and two sugars, please," Phoebe gave her best grin.

"For that angry blonde girl, yes? 6.82 is your total," He replied without punching the numbers into the register. As Phoebe was milling through her pocket book, letting change spill out until she could find the necessary amount of coins, Frankie leaned over.

"So, are you finally going to tell her?" His proximity to Phoebe would have normally bothered her, but Frankie was about as straight as a rainbow. His ten year old relationship with the cafe manager was proof of that.

"She already knows," Phoebe handed him the change politely. She willed her face to remain composed.

"Oh, sweetie! You have been holding out on me. Tell me everything. She isn't here yet, is she? Oh, the whole cafe knows when Helga is around. So tell me, I'll take my break early."

"Not much to say," Phoebe was still attempting to be neutral. She turned around to assure that there were no impatient customers waiting behind her. It was a slow morning.

"Don't worry about taking your break early, _I_ still don't even know what really happened. One minute I was successfully suppressing myself, the next _Helga_ is telling _me_ how I feel."

"Must have felt like the Twilight Zone, eh?" Frankie almost wanted to laugh, but he held it together for the girl's sake. In his opinion, it was glaringly obvious that Phoebe Heyerdahl was absolutely in love with one Helga G Pataki. He had never seen any young teen look at their best friend quite like that. Their hugging and hand-holding wasn't lost on him either, but Frankie never mentioned these facets to Phoebe. He only acted as support for the girl, and did not feel that it would be right to meddle with his own thoughts.

"It was. Now, we're meeting to further discuss it," Phoebe sighed. "I guess I'll go grab our usual table before someone takes it." Frankie watched the girl saunter away, her usual overly polite demeanor non-existent. She seemed defeated, and Frankie felt his heart break for the other girl.

Helga acting out of character was becoming a more and more common occurrence. From the events leading up to the kiss, to the kiss itself, to the end of their phone call, Phoebe realized that Helga was not being her normal self. It was all too weird, but delightfully and terrifyingly weird. All the sorts of oddness that caused Phoebe's head to feel light with excitement. And maybe some fear, too.

Yet, it was all preparation for when Helga entered the shop, totally sans obnoxious-bursting-through-the-door, and without a word, grabbed Phoebe's wrist and iced coffee, and suddenly both girls were walking arm in arm along the quiet streets. Although it was ten in the morning, Phoebe figured most kids were trying to sleep off their hangovers.

"Park?" Helga asked, looking over at Phoebe for the first time. Phoebe wasn't sure how to answer, so she only nodded.

The sun was high in the sky. The weather was at a pleasant sixty-five degrees, and a breeze whispered in the air. Phoebe could feel herself falling in love all over again, stepping on the cracks of the hard concrete with the light skin of her arms touching Helga's. There was something carefree about Helga with her blonde tresses behind her, waving gently. It was a moment, that amidst the confusion, Phoebe reveled in.

It took all of the will Phoebe possessed to finally commence their inevitable conversation. Phoebe had finished her latte ten minutes ago, and she could hear Helga sucked at the air (and whatever liquid remained) beneath the plastic cup. Their arms were touching, and they were sitting on the hardwood of a park bench. Few people were around, save for some especially motivated joggers.

"How did you know?" Might as well begin with the hard questions, Phoebe figured.

"Pheebs, I have a sixth sense for this kinda stuff," Helga was bending her straw now, playing with it between her fingers. "I mean, remember when we used to talk about Arnold in code?"

"Ice cream," Phoebe supplied.

"Yeah, well, you knew who I was talking about. You always knew," Helga placed her straw back into the plastic cup. She turned to face Phoebe, her features surprisingly showing an expression not with the usual confidence and uncaring attitude, but with deep concern in her brow.

"Well, I guess it was the same for me," Helga put her hands on Phoebe's now. The touch was light and it was becoming increasingly harder for Phoebe to concentrate. "And I didn't mean to bring it up the way I did. But uhh, I guess you could say after a lot of thinking...I have moved on from ice cream and decided I sort of found the perfect dessert: cake."

"Metaphors aside, Helga, what are you really trying to say? I can't help but think I am rebound from your feelings with Arnold. Perhaps even an _experiment_ you are willing to drop after you reaffirm your sexuality. I can't let you use me, not like that." Phoebe hated herself for torching this chance at being with Helga.

Even if it was some sort of petty experiment, Phoebe knew that with one look, Helga could probably convince her to go through with it. She absolutely _would_ let Helga use her like that, and those kind of thoughts frightened Phoebe more than anything. So Phoebe deflected the best she could, and avoided eye contact. If she could just not look Helga in the eyes, Phoebe would be safe.

"I guess I'm saying I didn't want to stay with Arnold, if I thought there was a spark elsewhere. Emotions are always changing, Pheebs, just like people. I don't want to let my self miss out on something. Not even for a minute. That's how I live life, you of all people would probably know that."

Helga was talking with such conviction, that Phoebe almost let herself believe it. Almost.

"But I can't afford my heart being hurt that way! Not when we know it will be Arnold. Every time, you go back to him. You've broken up with him and gotten back together more times than Gerald and I have even gone on dates. It doesn't work this way, Helga." Phoebe was seething now, the truth of her words spilling into a leaden filling her chest.

"I should go." Phoebe stood up. She turned to Helga, and decided that she could stab this whole _mess_ right through the belly of it, and they could return to normal. "I can't do this with you, only for you to decide it's a mistake. And then a week later, we're both pretending to laugh over it and you demand me to forget it. And my final word over the subject is: _forgetting_. We have moved past that, and we are both better than that."

Phoebe walked so swiftly away, that she did not notice the tears spilling down her cheeks. The air seemed to whip them away.

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><p><strong>AN:** Wow, thanks for the reviews! I was planning on keeping this at a one-shot, but I want to know what happens, too.


	3. Heavy Metal Lover

_**3. Heavy Metal Lover**_

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><p><em>I could be your<em>  
><em>girl, girl, girl, girl, girl, girl.<em>  
><em>But would you love me if I ruled the<em>  
><em>world, world, world?<em>

* * *

><p>Monday morning is a wreck.<p>

Phoebe had barely gotten any sleep, and she had managed to complete her calculus homework only by means of doing so during her first period english class. Therefore, she missed the lecture notes on essay writing. Which, if her marks were any indication, were entirely unnecessary notes. However, Phoebe Heyerdahl was a perfectionist and an incomplete notebook was akin to an unforgivable sin. This lead to her being forced to copy said notes form someone else during her lunch period, which effectively allowed for Phoebe to avoid Helga in the library.

She had been avoiding Helga all day, admittedly. But it was easy, considering their only class together was seventh period, Honor's History class. It was a strange fluke of scheduling, because they took almost all of the same classes. Helga Pataki was smarter than she let on, truth be told. But they had managed to only have lunch and History together, a fact that had been lamented since the beginning of the year, but now one that Phoebe was immensely thankful for.

She wasn't sure _why_ she was avoiding Helga. Phoebe knew that her words on Saturday at the park ought to have made her intentions very clear, and thus, it should dissolve the tension between them. They should, in theory, be able to go back to normal best friends.

But it was not that simple. As much as Phoebe thought she could save herself from heart break by crushing any possibility of a relationship with Helga, it had the opposite effect. Phoebe had mulled herself into a pattern of thought, angst and worry at the center of it.

First, Phoebe assured herself that she had made the right decision. That disregarding Helga's advances, and playing the Arnold-card was the right way to go. It was obvious, Phoebe thought, that they were soulmates. And who was she, always the the _best friend_, to get in between soulmates?

Then, Phoebe would feel the darker parts of her mind creep up into her consciousness. She had realized long ago that given this opportunity, Phoebe's first reaction would be to run with it. Reap the benefits, suffer the consequences later. Because wasn't that what being a teenager was all about? Phoebe wanted a relationship with Helga so badly, even if it was short-lived.

Finally, Phoebe would come back full circle and ponder the very details which had dictated Helga's actions. For as long as she had known the other girl, Phoebe could read Helga Pataki like an open book. Helga wore her heart on her sleeve, but most people overlooked it due to her rough exterior. The thought that now Helga was acting so strange, so out of character, and had so easily hidden from Phoebe the fact that she _knew_, required more processing power than Phoebe had ever exerted.

Even sitting through AP Physics C, supposedly the most difficult course offered, Phoebe let herself think through this circle. She penned her notes with a robotic ease, and finished the reading exercise without ever really letting her mind off the subject of Helga. The entire day proceeded in this way, and when time came for the final period of Honor's History, Phoebe was exhausted with thought about the same girl that she would be sitting next to for forty minutes.

If Phoebe skipped class, this would have been an appropriate moment to do so. But Phoebe Heyerdahl valued education over a bit of angst, so she filed into the classroom early. The teacher was busily writing out their warm-up activity on the chalkboard, oblivious to Phoebe's unusual demeanor. When the bell rang and a certain blonde-haired girl did not sit down beside her, Phoebe secretly hoped that perhaps, Helga wasn't even at school.

"Sorry, Mr. Ells. Some assholes were bugging me in the hall. Nearly showed 'em my fists, but you know I am trying to do less of that," Helga sounded jovial. It nearly pissed Phoebe off, but then she noticed Helga's attire.

Her hair was down, which Phoebe had an inkling that Helga had realized how much she preferred it that way. And her trade-mark pink converse, tank top, and skinny jeans had been traded in for a dark denim skirt, fishnet stockings, combat boots, and a crop top that revealed Helga's midriff.

In some ways, Phoebe had thought some day Helga would go for the punk look. It suited her personality in more ways than pink ever did. What she had never thought about, was how _hot_ it would be. Phoebe forgot about her mind waging war on itself, and took the time to simply appreciate her best friend.

Phoebe imagined pinning Helga to the desk. She imagined placing her hand on the revealed skin of Helga's stomach, and letting it drift from there. Phoebe imagined a lot of scenarios, and before it became too vivid, the subject of said fantasies was leaning into her ear with a hot, breathy whisper.

"Do you like it?" A question with a million answers. There was the truth: _fuck_ yes. There was the half-truth: you look...uh, I have no words that can describe it. There was the lie:

"Helga, isn't this a little extreme? Even for you."

"I already excused you for being late to my class, Helga. Do I really need to reprimand you for talking, too?" Mr. Ellsworth had a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. He understood Helga more than most teachers.

"Nah, Ells. Just keep going. You were talking about the Manhattan Project, right?" Helga nonchalantly looked up. Ellsworth continues his lesson.

Phoebe spends the rest of the period trying to push sexual thoughts out of her head, and Helga listens intently about America's involvement in World War II. When the bell rings, Phoebe scurries out of the room faster than usual. She does not linger to gather her books, nor does she wait around for Helga. She _bolts _to the street to catch the first bus, hopefully fast enough so that she might have a seat at the very back.

**X X X X**

"Phoebe, hey, girl," Gerald greets. He grins at her in a way that Phoebe is sure is meant to impress the ladies. "Can I sit with you?"

"Hello, and sure. No one else is sitting here. Nope," Phoebe says with more words than she meant. She is anxious that Helga may have managed to catch up with her and onto the bus, but the coast seemed clear for now. Maybe talking to Gerald would also calm Phoebe a bit. He seemed to have that affect with his relaxed personality.

"So, how've you been since prom? Comforting your girl Helga and all of that?"

"What?" Phoebe blurted. She had literally no idea why _Helga_ would be in need of comforting.

"Woah. Did you not know? The H and A train got off its course again. They broke up for what is the tenth time or whatever. Arnold has been off the wall. Thought Helga would be the same way, though she is the one that ended it...this time..." Gerald looked as if he was in great thought.

"Oh, that." Phoebe replied, trying to seem as if she only knew as much as Gerald. "Yeah, I mean, Helga has sort of been distracted with other stuff. We haven't talked about Arnold much."

It wasn't a complete lie.

"I saw! That getup is something else, lemme tell you. Helga's got serious swag, now," Gerald laughs. "My boy Arnold was not exactly happy with it, though. He thinks it's an attention-seeking thing. I told him he's gotta let a girl loose, sometimes."

"Yep," Phoebe concurs. She isn't sure what else she can say regarding Helga's new choice of outfit, without embarrassing herself.

"Well, Pheebs, this is my stop," Gerald got up suddenly. "We should hang out later. I get bored with Arnold; always Helga this, Helga that."

Gerald is so comfortable in his own skin, so funny, and so _honest_, Phoebe wishes she was in love with him. It would be a lot easier.

"Call me, I'll see you around Gerald." She offers him a genuine smile. The rest of the bus ride proves to be uneventful. When Phoebe gets home, however, she notices her phone has a new text.

_Come over, no more avoiding. Parents are still gone. If you don't, I'll be there in 30 and throw rocks at your window. -H_

Phoebe laughs out loud, remembering the time Helga actually broke the glass of her window panes doing that. With this memory, Phoebe suddenly feels confidence—surely she can control her libido long enough to talk to Helga, to make sure everything between them is okay. It is.

**X X X X**

She changes her clothes into more form-fitting jeans, and a white button down. Simple. Casual. Whatever. Phoebe tries not to over think why she does this. After quickly sending Helga a text, assuring that she is walking to the Pataki household, she mentally prepares herself. Do not, repeat, do not concentrate on Helga's attire. Focus on friendship. Two simple tasks. Phoebe is almost sure she can do this.

"Wow, you're here quicker than I would've thought," Helga grins. She guides Phoebe into their basement, reminding the girl about how they were _supposed_ to have spent after-prom.

"I guess you're not talking. That's cool, Pheebs." She pokes Phoebe in the ribs, who tries to keep a stoic expression. "You said it all Saturday, so, it's my turn. I think you're mad at me. Actually, if you aren't then I don't get why you have suddenly taken a vow of silence."

"I'm not mad."

"Could've fooled me," Helga shrugged. "But all I wanted to say was that I'm not going to give up."

Phoebe feels as if she has fallen into an alternate universe. She had assumed that she and Helga would have just disregarded the events of the weekend. She had thought Helga wouldn't even want to touch that elephant in the room with a ten-foot pole. Phoebe was starting to _suck _at predicting Helga's reactions.

"I am going to prove to you that Arnold is my friend. And you're my best friend, who _will_ become my girlfriend."

Helga's tone is easy. It's as if she has rehearsed these lines so many times, or maybe is saying the first words that come to mind. It is natural. It is arrogant. It is so utterly Helga G. Pataki.

Phoebe wants to sing, she wants to punch the other girl in the face, she wants to cry, she wants to kiss her. There are so many things Phoebe wants, but most of all, she wants Helga.

The declaration Helga made did not really succeed in convincing Phoebe that this wouldn't end in heart break. In fact, Phoebe is ready to call Gerald and make bets on it. Helga couldn't just be Arnold's friend for long. But it was her tone, and the word _girlfriend_ that changed her mind on how to go about the situation. Phoebe was prepared to sell her soul and a bit of her dignity.

Phoebe's resolve was broken.

She takes the next step and brings herself closer to Helga. Tentatively, she brings her hands to Helga's shoulders; Helga put her own on Phoebe's waist. Phoebe brings her face to the other girl's neck. Their bodies meld together, and Helga is extremely warm. There is a heat between them that spikes Phoebe's arousal. She no longer attempts to dismiss it.

"Girlfriend?" She mutters against Helga's neck. The word is more of a sigh than a question.

"Yeah, of course. If that's what you want."


	4. Resistance

_**4. Resistance**_

* * *

><p><em>Is our secret safe tonight?<em>  
><em>And are we out of sight,<em>  
><em>Or will our world come tumbling down?<em>

* * *

><p>Phoebe felt her eyes flutter, her head droop, and her mind clear. It had been a taxing day, to say the least. Her head was buried in the crook between Helga's collar bone and neck. The delicious scent that was Helga enveloped her. Phoebe was twirling Helga's hair around her index finger, and her lips were swollen from kissing. From kissing her <em>girlfriend<em>. It was surreal, even with Muse playing loudly from the stereo.

Her mother and father would be calling her, telling her to come home soon, and Phoebe would do so. As tired as she was, Phoebe would probably skip all the way home. Pure elation.

"Oh," Helga said in a gentle voice. "I'll walk you home. It's almost dark."

"That isn't necessary, Helga. I've done it a million times," Phoebe reminded her, secretly pleased at Helga's doting.

"I want to do that, though. Don't you know anything about basic chivalry?" Helga smiled at the smaller girl she was holding.

"But then _you _will have to walk back home in the dark. I'll be fine."

"Okay. I would ask if you could stay," Helga trailed off. "But I know it's the school week and I have already distracted you from your homework."

"You distracted me all during seventh period, and I don't see you apologizing for that one." Phoebe murmured into her collarbone.

"Yeah, you were trying so hard not to look at me. And look at where we are now." She laughs and it's Phoebe's favorite sound.

Phoebe continues to lay on Helga, snuggled against her on the couch. Muse is still playing, but it's a slower song now, and she tries to remember every single detail of this moment. The feeling of their bodies so physically close, limbs entangled. The musty basement smell overtaken by the intoxicating scent of Helga's hair. The gentle lull of the stereo. It scares Phoebe, a little, to admit that she never been happier, because she knows it won't last.

**X X X X**

Phoebe is prepared to fully skip home, but as soon as Helga closes her front door, she sees the last face she was expecting.

"Arnold, lovely evening we're having, isn't it?" Phoebe is starting to ramble, much like she does when she gets nervous.

"Hi, Phoebe," He says dejectedly, not noticing her erratic behavior. "It's okay, I guess. I feel weird not spending it with Helga, though."

Phoebe immediately feels the guilt surge, but then swallows it. She had already decided not to regret this. It would be worth it. Every single emotion was worth the happiness she was finally able to feel. She had to promise herself that much.

"Are you here to talk to her?" Phoebe inquired, trying to have as much curiosity in her voice as possible.

"Yeah, I wanted to apologize for what I did at prom. I know she isn't happy with me, but I think this time I can make it right. We're in love, and people make mistakes, y'know?" Arnold seems so upset, but the fact that he did _something_ at prom that upset Helga, surprises her. Phoebe feels awful, but then again, she knows that as nice as Arnold is, she deserves a chance too, right? So, Phoebe bites her lip and lies.

"I just saw Helga. And I don't think she's up to talking right now."

"Right, well, I was gonna drop by with flowers but the shop was closed...so I guess I'll try tomorrow. With flowers." Arnold saunters off, hands in his pocket. His blue baseball cap is turned to the side.

Phoebe begins walking home, deflated from the way she felt before she saw Arnold. Arnold the golden boy. It seemed to her as if most of the Helga and Arnold relationship lived on the flame of Helga's eternal crush. Half the time, it was like Arnold could do no wrong, and Helga was always the one changing for _him_. She was always the one apologizing, breaking down, unable to please him, because she was afraid of Arnold leaving.

Those thought had angered Phoebe, even before she had understood her love for Helga extended beyond friendship.

Sure, when they Helga and Arnold were together they were the perfect couple. They were each others' foils. But when it came to understanding each other when it counted—Helga's distant family, Helga's irrational anger that masked her insecurities, Helga's disdain for authority but unwillingness to drink or smoke—it was all way beyond Arnold's comprehension. He didn't _get_ Helga, like Phoebe did. And if anything, that was possibly her only leg up on the golden boy.

**X X X X**

Phoebe laid down on across her bed, having exiled herself to her room without food. She was too excited and too entrenched in thought to eat.

Life was changing so fast, and Phoebe could barely keep up. She had a girlfriend, now. The thought, as lovely as it was, Phoebe realized had many implications. She wasn't sure if she was ready to handle them. Phoebe knew that Helga wouldn't want to _come out_, probably not even to their closest friends. But it still meant admitting she was bisexuality for Phoebe. And that Helga was...what? Bi-curious? It was hard to know.

Yet, Phoebe could recognize lust. She heard Helga moan into their kisses as much as she had. Those actions were enjoyed by both parties, and Phoebe had felt Helga's hands wander. A relationship always came with insecurities and worries, but Phoebe was a little saddened to think that it was so _different_ for the sole fact that she was with a girl.

Phoebe knew that her own parents wouldn't mind; her mother's best friend was a gay man! But she was unsure of the reaction that Arnold and Gerald might have...and even scared for what would happen should Bob Pataki find his daughter with a girl.

All of Phoebe's thoughts seemed to float around one particular girl, and she found it was probably better to focus on a different subject for a change. So, Phoebe reviewed her notes on centripetal force. She integrated logarithmic functions. She yawned through an essay regarding the Neutrality Act of 1939. Phoebe felt better with the knowledge and analysis of said knowledge turning the clocks of her mind. She felt stimulated and awake, glad to remember the familiar sense of empowerment that came with comprehension of her subjects.

A knock on the door interrupted the opening of her required school reading.

"Phoebe?"

"Yes, mother?"

"Honey, would you like to talk?" Her mother sounded so unsure of herself, that Phoebe complied.

"Sure, come in." Reba Heyerdahl is dressed for bed. She has on these pajama sweats with a cow pattern, and Phoebe can't help but think it fits the stereotype of Reba being a southern woman and all. It's comforting though, because she has had those pants for as long as Phoebe can remember.

"Sweetie, you haven't been your normal self all weekend. And today you come home late, looking as if you're pondering the creation of the universe."

"The big bang theory?" Phoebe could not hide the confusion from her voice.

"Okay, so probably you were thinking about something _deeper_ than the creation of the universe. I don't know, hon, your father and I have been a little worried. We weren't going to bring it up at dinner, but then you decided not to eat," Reba finishes with a solemn look on her face.

"Oh, it's nothing! Really, mother. I have been helping Helga sort through some...things, I mean she broke up with Arnold, again," Phoebe sighs. Everything she does, goes back to Helga.

"Don't worry yourself into a tizzy about their relationship, honey, it'll work itself out if it's meant to. If not, I'm sure Helga and Arnold will move on. You're all still so young!" Her mother seems relieved that it's nothing more.

"Right, well, I should get ready for bed. Good night, mother," She hugs the older woman, glad that her parents care enough to pick up on Phoebe being off kilter.

"'Night, Pheebs. And be sure to cover up that hickey, tomorrow. Your father will throw a fit if he sees it," Reba chuckles, closing Phoebe's bedroom door behind her.

Phoebe feels absolutely mortified. But strangely, she is also proud of the mark. It is an animalistic way of thinking, but it's as if Helga has proved that Phoebe belongs to _her_, and her alone.

When Phoebe sleeps, she dreams vividly of being a leopard, fighting Arnold for the affections of Helga. At the end of the dream, Phoebe wins and gets the girl.

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><p><strong>AN:** Tell me in a review if you're rooting for Arnold and Helga, or for Helga and Phoebe! Thanks for reading, I'm really enjoying writing this.


	5. Pursuit of Happiness

_**5. Pursuit Of Happiness**_

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><p><em>I'm on the pursuit of happiness and I know,<em>  
><em>everything that shine ain't always gonna be gold.<em>  
><em>I'll be fine once I get it, I'll be good.<em>

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><p>Their relationship status had admittedly not changed much in their normal routine. The main differences were subtle, virtually unnoticeable to someone that wasn't looking for it. They held hands as they walked to school. They walked together in the halls just a little closer than before. They ate lunch together, but more often than not, rather than sitting with the usual crew, they sat outside under the trees and the sun.<p>

Helga was still exposing herself in revealing, punk-style clothing. Phoebe could not bring herself to say anything about it for several reasons. The first, was obviously selfish: it was hot, and Helga was her girlfriend. The second: she didn't want to sound like Arnold and suppress her freedom to dress however she pleased. The third: it suited Helga. And the only reason which compelled Phoebe to wish Helga would wear clothes of a less skimpy nature, was the fact that it was incredibly _distracting_.

Phoebe found herself thankful for their differing schedules, for the mere fact that during History she was enamored. Lost in fantasy. Probably, it would be unnerve a lot of people to imagine innocent Phoebe Heyerdahl, class obsessive-compulsive genius, having the libido of a teenage boy. But Phoebe managed to keep her composure for the most part, straining to remain the face of neutrality.

Helga could see Phoebe's struggle, and so she made it worse every seventh period. Naturally. And the only way Phoebe ever forgave her for it, was that they afterwards, since seventh was the last period of the day, they would usually end up back at Helga's house, making out in her room. It was a win-win for Helga, really.

The week that followed Helga and Phoebe getting together were sailed along rather smoothly. But all along, Phoebe had the inkling of worry in the back of her mind. She could not, obviously, shake the issue of Arnold. Nor could she continue to lie to her mother for much longer. Anything was bound to erupt, considering that's how secrets usually ended up—the truth spews at the most inconvenient of times.

So, Phoebe did what any girl would in her situation. She decided to hang out with Gerald. Gerald Johanssen is her anchor, and the only guy that ever actually managed to _calm_ Phoebe, rather than make her nervous. The connection to Arnold was not lost on Phoebe—she knew she would have to tread around subjects, but at the same time, Gerald wasn't really one to pry, either.

**X X X X**

Her knock was soft. It then turned into a rapping. And soon Phoebe was tempted to start pounding on the door. However, this was unnecessary. Gerald finally came to the door.

"Hey, baby girl, how are ya?" He asked, trying to appear suave in some ridiculous way.

"Gerald," Phoebe quirked her eyebrow. "Jamie is around, isn't he? At least tell me Timberly is with her parents, out somewhere."

"Yeah, yeah, of course Pheebs. They'll be gone all day. We wouldn't light up if she was around. That's just wrong."

"You do realize that smoking is illegal, and therefore it's wrong in general."

"All because of the damn government!" He lead her into his living room. The house did not reek, but being in an enclosed space with Gerald, she could smell the marijuana.

"The legalization of hemp destroying the paper industry, capitalism and corporate greed, et cetera, et cetera," She listed, almost sounding bored.

The first time Phoebe had encountered Gerald stoned, he began to debate her about every subject ranging from politics to science. It was strange, but Gerald was much more thoughtful while under the influence. Phoebe also knew that he only ever smoked while his brother was at home, in some weird way of hoping to gain the acceptance of his elder sibling. The need to impress Jamie, in whatever convoluted way, was a part of Gerald. Phoebe's father had emphasized the significance of familial ties since she was young, so, Phoebe went with it.

She did not judge Gerald for smoking, and rather, found herself enjoying the weirdly intellectually-stimulating conversation. The only issue was that Gerald would constantly remind Phoebe why marijuana should be legal, even if Phoebe never truly argued back.

"Yeah," Gerald smiled widely, and sat back on the couch. He offered her potato chips from a bowl, which she gladly accepted. "So, Pheebs. What did you wanna do? Are you thinking what I'm thinking? Video games."

"Whatever you want, Gerald, so long as we can talk," Phoebe said, already getting up to turn on the Xbox. It was the least she could do, considering his current state of mind.

Starting up a typical first-shooter game, Phoebe could not help but wonder how boys found such games amusing for so long. The controls were straightforward, the dynamics of the game relatively repetitive, and the graphics gave Phoebe a bit of a motion headache, if she was being honest. But it was an activity to do mindlessly with Gerald through conversation.

"So, how've you been? You chill?" Gerald grunted as he attempted to block Phoebe's onslaught of bullets.

"Rather well, thank you. I...well..." Phoebe was unsure how to approach the delicate subject of Helga.

"Pheebs, spit it out—woah! Where did you come from?" A series of shots sounds from the high-definition television set.

"I have been curious. I know you didn't really want to talk about him," Phoebe chuckled in triumph at yet another kill. "But uh, how is Arnold doing? I mean, he's my friend, too, but we hardly see each other."

Gerald took his sweet time to pause the game, and turn from his seat on the couch to face the other girl. Phoebe put her own controller on the coffee table, and tucked a stray hair behind her left ear. The silence continued for almost a minute; Gerald vaguely lost in stoned thought, Phoebe merely anticipating his analysis. They were used to the comfortable silences, though, even without the cushioning of drugs. It was just Phoebe and Gerald, and a lot of the time, that was enough for them.

Phoebe recalls being in middle school, eagerly diving into a relationship with Gerald which ultimately put a strain on their friendship. Yeah, they had chemistry and once had real romantic inclinations toward one another—but as a couple, it was hard for them to know where boundaries stood. Where Phoebe wanted go on singular dates, Gerald wanted to be out partying and socializing; where Phoebe was more ready to explore physically, the thought made Gerald sweat; where Phoebe breathed education, Gerald strolled through school with a laxness that left other students in envy. And when they amicably broke up, their friendship was only heightened.

It made Phoebe feel special that she could have someone as "street smart" as Gerald for a (male) best friend, and in turn Gerald was grateful to have a girl to protect and hangout with—no strings or expectations attached. The lack of pressure was probably why their friendship had never lapsed in the years they had known one another.

Gerald let out a sigh.

"Arnold really screwed up, Pheebs. Not gonna lie." At this, Phoebe's curiosity grew tenfold.

"Really? Isn't usually Helga making the mistakes—and poor Arnold suffering them?" Her words came out more bitter than she meant.

"...Woah." Gerald's eyes suddenly grew wider, and Phoebe could see the redness in them. She could also practically see the wheels of his mind turning at an indescribable and unusual rate.

"I thought it was something I was _imagining_. But, Phoebe. And don't take this the wrong way, 'cause I'm a brother first and I don't judge." He gave her a wink. "But you really like Helga, don't you?"

At this Phoebe, felt her neck warm. She kept her expression neutral, but simply her hesitation may have given it away.

"Of course, Gerald. She's my best friend. Hello, we've been _all_ been friends since preschool." Gerald's grin only grew wider at this statement.

"So, how long has it been?"

"I recount: since preschool," Phoebe chided patiently. "And if you do the math that's—"

"Woah, you've had the hots for her since preschool? And it's not until now that you've considered making a move?"

"Wait," She was absolutely _red_. "What are you referring to, Gerald? Please clarify."

Giving her a knowing smirk, Gerald tilted his head back and laughed loudly. Phoebe knew what he was referring to at this point, but she decided to continue to play in the dark and remain silent.

"You're in love with a certain blonde woman. Scary demeanor. Intense poet. Newly punk. Your best friend," Gerald listed off these facts as if they were the weather forecast. His nonchalance actually helped Phoebe feel more natural about the entire situation. He was always doing that for her.

Phoebe acquiesced that Gerald knew of her affection; though it scared her that someone other than Helga knew, it also felt as if a burden had been lifted from her chest. Immediately, Phoebe felt lighter, elated even. The breath she was not aware the she had been holding was released, and Phoebe was no longer half as anxious.

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><p><strong>AN:** I have no idea where I'm going with this story, hence the time it took to update. Sorry!


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